Ghost in the Throne (Ghost Exile #7) (46 page)

“We need to get out of here,” said Kylon. 

“The ward,” said Caina. “The ward is still on the stairs.”

“The window, then,” said Kylon. “We’ll climb down.” 

Caina nodded and ran to the window, slipping her ghostsilver dagger back into its sheath as Kylon returned the valikon to its scabbard. She pushed open the window, and the gust of cool air felt almost icy compared to the heat radiating from the Throne. Caina swung out on the sill, and together they scrambled down the ornate stonework as fast as they could manage.

The tower started to shake under her fingers. The windows blazed with yellow-orange light, even as more and more pyromantic power swirled around the solar. 

They were not going to make it.

“Do you trust me?” shouted Kylon over the deafening roar from above.

Caina looked at him. “Always!” 

Kylon nodded, grabbed her arms, and then kicked off the side of the tower. 

Caina just had time to shout in surprise, and then they hurtled downward. For an awful instant she was certain they would smash against the courtyard far below, but the power of Kylon’s leap carried them in an arc from the tower, towards one of the wings of the mansion. It was a fall of nearly forty feet, and Kylon twisted as they fell, glowing with the blue-silver light of the sorcery of water as he pulled her close.

They hit the flat roof of the mansion’s wing, landing upon Kylon’s right arm. The sorcery of water gave him the strength to survive the impact, and they rolled along the roof to absorb their momentum, flipping over each other again and again. Every bone in Caina’s body seemed to vibrate with the roll, and she feared their momentum would carry them over the edge of the roof. 

At last they came to a stop a few feet from the edge. Kylon landed on top of her, breathing hard, his weight braced upon his hands and his face tight with strain.

“Nice landing,” croaked Caina. 

Kylon pushed off her and landed on his back next to her. “If we’re still alive, then…”

The tower exploded. 

It erupted in flame and smoke and rubble as the Throne of Corazain finally succumbed to the titanic forces ripping through it. The tower seemed to rip in half like a man opening the front of a jacket, and rubble sprayed in all directions as a pillar of flame shot into the sky. Caina started to shout for Kylon to take cover, and then realized there was no place to take cover on the flat roof. So she threw her arms over her head, and Kylon pulled her close. She realized that he was trying to shield her from the debris, and she wanted to shout for him to save himself, but it proved unnecessary. Chunks flame-wreathed stone fell around them, smashing holes into the roof, but avoided Caina and Kylon. A fist-sized piece of stone hit her left arm, pain shooting through her shoulder and chest, and she saw another strike the side of Kylon’s right leg, but the worst of the debris avoided them. As the tower shattered, Caina saw the flows of power around the Throne snap, lashing across the skies like burning whips. 

At last the deafening roar of the explosion faded away, leaving only the sound of flames crackling through the mansion.

Kylon recovered first. “Come on.” He stood, wincing a little as he put his weight on his right leg, drops of sweat carving lines through the soot on his face. “We had best get out of here before the whole mansion collapses.”

“Aye.” Caina accepted the hand he offered to help her stand, and got to her feet, wobbling a little as she caught her balance. The burning pieces of the tower had ripped gaping holes in the mansion’s roof, setting the interior ablaze. “I think my rope survived the fall.” She patted the coil on her belt. “We ought to…”

Golden fire flashed across the sky, and Caina’s eyes moved to the huge rift over Istarinmul. For a moment it seemed to swell, yawning wider like a mouth about to engulf the city. In that moment, Caina saw through the rift and into the gray plain and black skies of the netherworld beyond the circles of the material world, and in the sky of the netherworld she saw the ghostly white and gold towers of Iramis, the echo left from Callatas’s destruction of the city.

Then the rift shrank, collapsing into itself with a sound like a rushing river. There was a brilliant flash of golden light and a thunderclap, and the rift vanished as if it had never existed. A moment later the great golden circle shimmered and vanished from sight, leaving only rubble and flames where it had marked the city. Caina watched as the mighty web of spells that Cassander and the Umbarians had woven faded away. 

Caina let out a long breath.

It was over.

“That city,” said Kylon. “That…city in the sky. Did you see it, or was I imagining things?”

“Iramis,” said Caina in a soft voice. “When Callatas destroyed Iramis, the spell was so powerful that it left an echo of Iramis in the netherworld. If you enter the netherworld near Istarinmul, you can still see the echo.” 

“A fate,” said Kylon, “that Istarinmul will not share this day.” 

Caina looked at the city, a city she had expected to see in flames before the dawn, and a surge of emotion went through her. Satisfaction? Relief? Joy? Terror that it had so nearly ended in disaster?

Mostly, she felt very, very tired.

“That’s two of three,” she said. 

“Of what?” said Kylon, blinking. 

“Cassander Nilas,” said Caina. “Malik Rolukhan. Kill the Huntress, and you’ll have avenged Thalastre.” 

Kylon snorted. “Aye. Well…that’s why I came here. And if I wished to make myself feel noble, I would tell myself that I killed Cassander to save Istarinmul.” His eyes met hers. “I killed him to save you.” 

Caina smiled. “I think that sounds plenty noble. Though it is selfish of me, I know.” 

“We should go,” said Kylon as a crackling sound came from the mansion beneath them, “before you finish burning down yet another building.”

Caina blinked, but unhooked the rope from her belt. “What does that mean?” 

“The Craven’s Tower,” said Kylon as Caina hooked the grapnel to the edge of the roof, “the Inferno, the Corsair’s Rest…”

“That one was your fault,” said Caina. “You made me drink the Elixir.”

“Before Istarinmul,” said Kylon, “there was that warehouse in Marsis, that carpenter’s shop in Catekharon…a lot of buildings burn down when you are nearby.” 

“This one,” said Caina, letting the rope drop to the courtyard below, “was Cassander’s fault.” 

“As you like,” said Kylon, but there was a glimmer of amusement in his eye as he said. 

“And I can think of no better fate for the Brotherhood’s private dock,” said Caina. “We can continue this conversation when we’re not in danger of burning alive.”

They descended the rope. Her muscles were tired, and her shoulders and arms screamed with the effort, but she made the descent. Then Caina and Kylon fled the courtyard. The Adamant Guards had not yet returned from their wild chase of the false Balarigars. Likely most of them would not survive the night. The Umbarian Lord Ambassador was dead, and Caina had no doubt the people of Istarinmul would turn against the Order and its servants. 

She and Kylon vanished into the night as the Brotherhood’s mansion collapsed into flaming rubble.

Chapter 26: Generations

As the sun rose in the east, Caina approached the gate of the Imperial embassy’s mansion with Kylon. A sort of stunned stupor had fallen over Istarinmul as people gazed suspiciously at the sky, or started picking through the rubble or the burned-out buildings left by the golden circle and the riots. Caina knew that would not last. The rage would come once the shock had worn off. Cassander had claimed that Erghulan and Callatas had defected to the Umbarian Order out of sheer spite, and once the people recovered from their shock, their rage would focus upon the Grand Wazir and the Grand Master. 

Caina didn’t know what would happen then, not with Tanzir Shahan’s army marching up from the south. Cassander Nilas had failed, but in a single night he had brought catastrophic change to Istarinmul. The Grand Wazir’s political power had been crippled. The Grand Master had been widely feared, but now he would be hated as well. Tanzir might have been a rebel, but Cassander’s pronouncement had created a hundred thousand willing allies for the rebels. The Slavers’ Brotherhood, the financial backbone of Istarinmul, had been annihilated. 

Istarinmul had been heading for an explosion before last night. And now…

Caina didn’t know what would happen next. 

Four Imperial Guards stood watch at the gate, swords and shields ready. In their midst stood a tall, dark-skinned man in black clothing, his head shaved, his lips framed by a trimmed beard, a leather-wrapped spear in his hand. Nasser Glasshand stared at Caina and Kylon, and then his white smile flashed across his dark face. 

Then he started to laugh. 

“By the Divine,” said Nasser. “By the Divine!” 

To Caina’s utter and lasting astonishment, he caught her in a tight hug, and did the same to Kylon, who looked nonplussed. Laertes came out after his employer, 

“I was utterly certain that you were dead,” said Nasser. “The destruction of the Brotherhood’s dock was visible from half the city. Then the rift collapsed and the circle vanished, and it was over. I feared Istarinmul would burn as Iramis had…but that was not to be.”

“Cassander’s dead,” said Caina, “and the Throne destroyed. That was the explosion.” 

“Well done,” said Nasser. “Well done, indeed. A deed worthy of the great valikarion of old in ancient days.” 

Valikarion. 

Caina shivered a little at the word. That was what she was now, like it or not. And like it or not…the abilities of a valikarion had helped her to find Cassander Nilas, had helped Kylon to kill him. And if she had not…

If she had not, everything around her would be ashes now. 

“It was a very close thing,” said Caina. “Very, very close.”

“I never doubted you would prevail,” said Nasser.

Caina smiled. “Liar.”

“And you, Laertes?” said Kylon.

Laertes snorted and raked a hand over his close-cropped gray hair. “I thought we were dead.”

Caina laughed. “Spoken like a true centurion.” Her laughter faded. “Claudia. Is she…”

“Inside,” said Nasser, urging her forward. “Lord Martin seized the Umbarian embassy without incident and set it ablaze. Finding it empty, he returned to the shop and took Lady Claudia and the child back to the mansion for their safety.”

“Child?” said Caina. “And then…”

“Annarah tells me it was a very quick birth,” said Nasser. “Especially for a first child. Lady Claudia is quite tired, but will wish to speak with you at once.” 

They went into the mansion’s entry hall, past more Imperial Guards standing watch. Nerina, Malcolm, Azaces and Nerina stood facing Kirzi and her daughter. Nerina was talking and gesturing, while Kirzi looked dubious.

“It is not surprising,” said Nerina. “Based on my calculations, Lady Claudia’s hips possessed the optimal angle and width to ensure a speedy delivery.” 

Malcolm snorted. “Sometimes, wife, you think too much.” 

“I am certain the correlation can be charted mathematically,” said Nerina. “If you were to measure pregnant women, and then time their births, allowing for factors such as health, weather, and emotional distress, I am certain a statistical correlation could be discovered…”

“If you say so, noble mistress,” said Kirzi, blinking. 

“Ciara!” said Nerina, smiling. “I mean, Caina. I shall never be able to remember your proper name, which is a peril of using aliases, I suspect.”

“Sometimes I can’t even remember who I’m pretending to be,” said Caina. 

Using aliases would be harder now. There had been hundreds of people in the Circus, and she had announced herself before all of them. Certainly some of them would talk. Once Callatas realized that she was still alive, once he figured out that Nasser and Annarah had the Staff and the Seal, he would come for them. 

“It is easier not to lie,” said Malcolm. “Though often inconvenient. We are very glad you are not dead.”

Caina laughed. “And I know you’re not lying.”

A narrow door near the stairs opened, and Annarah stepped into the hall, her silver hair tied back, her green eyes bloodshot. She seemed tired, but otherwise unharmed, and she smiled when she saw Caina. 

“I knew you would return,” said Annarah. 

“You may have been the only one,” said Caina. “I certainly did not.”

“Lady Claudia will want to see you,” said Annarah. “Just you, though. No one else. Both she and the child are tired and must rest.” 

Caina nodded and followed Claudia into the room. It had been set up as a delivery room, no doubt at Lord Martin’s command, but it had been converted into a nursery. Claudia sat in the bed, propped up by pillows, wearing a loose robe. Caina had heard poets and singers describe new mothers as radiating and glowing, but Claudia only looked absolutely exhausted, with dark circles under her eyes and a touch of pallor to her face. She looked the way the Imperial Guards did after battle.

In her arms rested a small, red-faced infant, his eyes closed, his hands pulled into little fists as he slept. 

Claudia looked up at Caina and let out a tired little snort. 

“You’re alive,” she said. “Well, none of the rest of us are dead, so I suppose you were victorious. Cassander is dead?”

“I broke his gauntlet,” said Caina. “The pyromancy burned away his mind, and Kylon cut off his head. The spells on the Throne broke down and it exploded.” 

“Oh, good.” Claudia closed her eyes and rested her head against the pillow, letting out a long breath. “I suppose I should say something more profound, but…I really am very tired. And very glad that Martin and my son are not dead. Thank you.”

“Thank you,” said Caina. “I think…I think you told me what I needed to hear.”

Claudia blinked. “I did?”

“In the shop, when you slapped me,” said Caina.

“Oh, right,” said Claudia. “I remember. Forgive me. It was a very long night.” 

“What was it like?” said Caina.

“Painful,” said Claudia. “And messy. Not just the blood and everything else. I swear I have never sweated so much in my life, not even when we crossed the Sarbian Desert on our way to Catekharon. And it hurt. Oh, dear gods, did it hurt. I don’t ever want to do it again.” She looked down at the child and smiled. “But I’m going to.”